


A Medic's First Time

by carnalbones



Category: MTMTE - Fandom, The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Sticky, multiple overloads, oral interfacing, valveplug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 14:57:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10969617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carnalbones/pseuds/carnalbones
Summary: Springer pays First Aid a visit, but certainly not for medicinal reasons. Instead, First Aid enjoys his first time interfacing with the Wrecker.





	A Medic's First Time

First Aid squirmed slowly on the edge of the table, his entire frame trembling from the attentions that it was receiving from the Wrecker that currently had their frame a mere breath away the medic’s. Springer’s hands massaged firmly and indulgently along First Aid’s thighs and hips, their thumbs occasionally giving teasing brushes across the seams of the smaller mech’s interface panel. The Wrecker then leaned forward, leaving a series of blazing kisses and nips at First Aid’s exposed neck cables, causing shivers to ripple through the medic’s frame.

“Wiggly little guy, aren’t you?” Springer chuckled, his warm ventilation brushing across the sensitive cables.

“Been-been a while,” First Aid admitted breathlessly.

“Oh yeah?” Springer murmured, his lips still grazing across the cables. “Heh… Well, I better make it worth your while, then, huh?”

A nervous bit of laughter escaped First Aid and he wriggled again on the table, gripping the edges tightly as anticipation burned at his systems. His optics were half-shuttered, and his ventilation snagging each time that Springer’s digit tips brushed against his interface panel. First Aid was well aware that the Wrecker was teasing him, but at the moment, the smaller mech wasn’t about to complain. His overload charges were warming up and his systems beginning to get the first, promising tingles of the intense release. So, for now, the medic was content to let the larger mech coax him along.

“Now then…” Springer leaned back just a little, but as he did so, made sure to press his frame against First Aid’s for a brief moment. “Does our little medic prefer a delicate approach, like his medical practices? Or is it a rougher ride you’re looking for?”

Even if he couldn’t convey a grin, there was no missing the mischievous glint in First Aid’s visor, and he couldn’t help but arch his back a little and let his pedes rub up against Springer’s legs. The action elicited a grunt from the Wrecker, who smirked and quirked a helm ridge.

“I have to blow off some steam somehow, now don’t I?” the little medic inquired with a short chuckle.

Laughing shortly, Springer then made a short noise of approval before leaning forward and pressing his lips against First Aid’s faceplate. He made the kiss firmer, pushing his frame, and more notably his interface panel, up against the medic’s. Pushing First Aid back a little further, Springer then grasped at the medic’s lower back with one hand while bracing himself against the table with his other.

Once he was situated, the Wrecker made a slow, deliberate grinding of his interface panel against First Aid’s. A muffled squeal of anticipation thrummed from behind First Aid’s faceplate, and Springer couldn’t help but grin a little as he renewed their kiss.

This time, he let his glossa slip out from between his lips and glide across a small part of the medic’s warm faceplate. The action was met with First Aid grabbing Springer’s arms tightly, their normally gentle hands housing a surprisingly strong grip. Wafts of heat rose up from the small medic’s interface panel, sending ripples of excitement through Springer. The Wrecker muffled a groan from behind a grin, which he favored First Aid with before moving his kisses along the smaller mech’s faceplate.

“Sp-Springer,” First Aid huffed softly, lifting his hips as much as he could so that his interface panel could meet the green mech’s once again. “...please.”

“Heh, almost,” the Wrecker murmured, his lips brushing against the medic’s faceplate. He leaned back a slight degree so that he could speak without his words being muffled. “Can definitely promise you a rough ride, but got to make sure that you’re ready for it.”

There was a hint of indignation in First Aid’s expression at the last part of Springer’s statement, and with a quick noise of effort, the medic grabbed the Wrecker’s interface panel and gave it an indulgent and surprisingly intense rub. It was enough to make Springer stagger a little, and the pressure of his spike against his interface panel increased exponentially. It took everything he had to keep his interface panel locked in place, but lubricant, which had already been leaking out, began to well up at noticeably at the seams.

Noticing the surprise on Springer’s expression, First Aid snickered softly and tilted his helm to the side. He spread his legs apart a little farther, grazing the tips of his pedes against the Wrecker’s thighs as he did so, and opened his interface panel. It clicked open and the medic’s spike pressurized immediately, while lubricant pattered down from the already swollen lips of his valve. Making an imploring whine, First Aid writhed as enticingly as he could, letting the wet lips of his valve rub up against Springer’s hot interface panel.

Unable to resist, the pressure of his spike against his interface panel almost painful, Springer ventilated a shuddering sigh before almost falling to his knees so that his helm was positioned between First Aid’s legs.

“Frag it,” Springer muttered, grabbing First Aid’s thighs and helping hold the medic’s legs apart so that he had easy access to their valve. “Come here, you feisty, little medic.”

Though they made a surprised squeal when Springer pulled them to the edge of the table, First Aid’s squeal quickly dissolved into a contented moan when he felt the Wrecker press their mouth up against the puffy lips of his valve. Ventilation coming out in gasps, First Aid had to brace himself on his hands, arms trembling as he felt Springer’s glossa slide around teasingly along the edges of his valve entrance...before plunging deep into the hot, wet folds.

Chuckling at the second, surprised squeal that he garnered from First Aid, Springer continued to loll his glossa around against the tight, soft walls. Lubricant pooled into his mouth, which the Wrecker swallowed almost greedily. His thoughts already imagining how carnally wonderful First Aid’s valve would feel fitted around his spike, Springer let one of his hands go down between his legs and he began to stroke his already hard spike. He was careful not to get  _ too _ eager with the actions, not wanting to overload after only a couple thrusts into First Aid, but there was no denying how good it felt to tease at his own overload charges a little.

“Springer…! Springer!” First Aid moaned, his hips lifting reflexively as he felt the Wrecker’s glossa explore the depths of his valve.

“Heh, you taste pretty good,” Springer commented, leaning back and rubbing his thumb over the head of his spike. Smearing transfluid against the warm metal, the Wrecker licked his lubricant smeared lips before moving forward once again.

This time, however, he began to suck slowly and teasingly at First Aid’s exterior node, which was almost hidden in the swollen, lubricant slick folds of their valve entrance. It was still glowing brightly, however, a testament to how aroused the medic was, and Springer held it between his lips just enough so that he could flick the tip of his glossa over it.

Each flick made First Aid jerk in response, and the medic clutched at Springer’s helm, his hands trembling and ventilation racing. Even though that Springer had known that First Aid was aroused, he hadn’t anticipated just how much. Given the considerable heat radiating from their frame and how the medic struggled to keep his grip steady, they must have been far more than-

“Spr-Springer, please,” First Aid moaned, writhing on the table edge but unable, and unwilling, to move his valve entrance away from the Wrecker’s mouth. “I’m-I’m going to overload if-if you keep that up!”

“Well, then… Guess I should keep going, huh?” Springer murmured, obviously pleased with himself.

Making a questioning noise, First Aid gave the green mech a puzzled look. He was a little embarrassed, too, at how quickly he’d started to come to climaxing. The medic had hoped he would be able to hold out a little longer, if, at the very least, for Springer’s benefit along with his own. The Wrecker, however, seemed to have other ideas, and while First Aid was definitely grateful for the oral teasing that Springer was giving his valve and exterior node, First Aid didn’t want the green mech left without overloading themselves.

“Oh, don’t worry, my little medic,” Springer replied in answer to First Aid’s questioning noise. “I’m going to get more than one overload out of you.”

First Aid didn’t have time to voice his surprise, because Springer renewed his oral gratification of the medic’s valve with extra fervor. His helm snapping back as a loud moan thrummed from his vocalizer, First Aid clutched at Springer’s helm, shuttering his optics and willingly lifting his hips as much as he could. His overload charges were practically burning at his systems, and he could hear his spark pulse in his audial receptors. The feel of Springer’s glossa sliding and pressing against the hypersensitive, sensor rich, mesh walls of his valve was nothing short of carnally glorious, and First Aid began to make short, panting moans as he felt his overload charges begin to notch up for their final climb.

“Springer, oh-oh, Springer! I’m going-going to-!” First Aid couldn’t finish, his systems in too much of a heady mess to do so.

The wonderful sounds that First Aid was making were too much, and Springer had to stop teasing at his own overload charges by stroking at his hard spike. It was all for the better, anyways, as the Wrecker wanted to focus solely on the medic he was bringing to overload. His delicious, delightful medic First Aid.

Pressing his glossa up against the roof of First Aid’s valve, seeking out the extremely sensitive exterior node, Springer couldn’t help but grin proudly when he found it. He didn’t find it by feel, per say, but by the fact that First Aid bucked and cried out his name, stroking his helm and now begging him to keep going. The little medic, their thighs now trembling and a pool of lubricant having formed underneath them, whispered hoarsely that they were close. How close they were to overloading and how much they wanted to.

Springer needed no further coaxing, and he firmly rubbed the tip of his glossa back and forth First Aid’s interior node. He could taste lubricant, coming now in thick pulses, and First Aid began to moan loudly and in quick succession, their grip on Springer’s helm reflexively tightening.

“Springer! Springer!” First Aid cried, squeezing his optics shut as he felt his overload charges peak.

The world around him seemed to explode, and it was all that First Aid could do to hold onto Springer’s helm as he rode through the waves of his overload. Warmth spread across his midsection as transfluid throbbed from his spike, and the medic even managed a small squeak of surprise when he felt a sudden, pronounce gush of lubricant from his valve.

Bucking, the medic managed one more, strangled cry of Springer’s name before he gave up and simply resorted to gasped cries of delight. He could feel Springer’s glossa moving around inside his tensing valve, pressing against the walls and drawing out First Aid’s overload just that much longer. His back arched sharply, First Aid tensed responsively as the last of his overload throes crashed over him.

Then, almost as fast as it had occurred, the medic’s overload subsided, and they collapsed back against the wall. First Aid panted as he struggled to catch his ventilation, and moaned weakly as his legs fell down onto the table. Feeling the warmth of his lubricant and transfluid on the normally cool metal, the medic made a soft whimper and looked down at the mess that he’d created.

Springer, once First Aid’s first overload had ended, had carefully pulled back before resting the side of his helm against one of the medic’s lubricant smeared thighs. He grinned up proudly at the smaller mech, momentarily ignoring his own, aching overload charges, and simply basking in how enjoyable the entirety of First Aid’s overload.

“Oh… Oh, oh, oh,” he gasped softly, stroking at Springer’s face. A somewhat sheepish look crossed the medic’s face and he shifted his weight a little on the table. “I...kind of made a mess, didn’t I?”

“Well, I’d like to think that I helped to a degree,” Springer replied, patting First Aid’s other thigh gently. He then chuckled and kissed the thigh that he was resting his helm against. “I’ll give you a few minutes to catch your breath, because I’m hardly through with you.”

“I’d...I’d hope that was the case,” First Aid replied, albeit still a little breathlessly. “I would be a terrible medic if I left one of my patients in such wanting straits, wouldn’t I?”

Chuckling at the comment, Springer nodded slowly and nuzzled his face against First Aid’s hand as it caressed against his face. Now that he knew just how intensely the medic could overload, the Wrecker found himself even more eager to bring them to a second one...and mingle it with his own.

However, when First Aid sat up and then scooted off the table and stood beside Springer, it was the Wrecker’s turn to give them an inquisitive look. He tilted his helm to the side, quirking a helm ridge, and started to ask what First Aid was doing. But he was cut off when the medic patted the table before motioning invitingly to it.

“Come on, then. Hop up and give me that rough ride you promised me,” First Aid stated, a small, gleeful glint in his visor.

Pleasantly surprised, Springer stood up with a muted groan, his frame already somewhat stiff from his heated overload charges. It wasn’t painful, though, and he effortlessly sat up on the table. He didn’t mind the lubricant and transfluid mess that First Aid had left behind, though he couldn’t help but smirk a little when it helped him slide back on the table so that he could rest his back on the wall.

Once situated, the Wrecker easily helped the expectant medic up and onto his lap so that they could straddle him and position themselves over his hard, erect spike. Pearls of lubricant, warm and stimulating, dripped down from First Aid’s wet, taut valve and onto the head and shaft of Springer’s spike. The Wrecker ventilated out a shuddering breath, anticipation and excitement renewed within him and causing his overload charges to notch up considerably.

“Okay, just...slowly,” Springer instructed, holding onto First Aid’s hips so as to help lower them down onto his spike. “And...and if we need to stop, just say so.”

There was no missing the appreciative look on First Aid’s expression, and he leaned forward a little. He tilted his helm to the side invitingly, and hooked an index digit under Springer’s chin so as to draw them closer.

“Kiss me,” he murmured softly.

Happily obliging, Springer pressed his lips up against First Aid’s warm faceplate, groaning audibly in contentment as he lowered them down onto his spike. The tight heat that enveloped his spike, along with First Aid’s audible moan of contentment, sent ripples of anticipation straight to his overload charges. And though his grip shook, he managed to hold the medic steady as they writhed a little and continued to lower themselves down onto Springer’s spike.

His ventilation had caught when the head of the green mech’s spike had first parted the lips of his valve, still dripping with lubricant, and First Aid squeezed his optics shut for the moment. He just wanted to focus on the feel of Springer’s lips against his faceplate and the ecstatic feel of the Wrecker’s thick, hard spike as it continued to slide into his inviting valve.

Little flickers of pain mixed with intense pleasure, as First Aid had never interfaced with Springer before, so his valve was unused to the girth and plating of the mech’s spike. Even so, any momentary discomfort was immediately replaced with the undeniably enjoyable feel of smooth plating running across the hypersensitive sensors in his valve walls.

It was only when Springer hilted himself inside First Aid that the medic made a soft squeak of surprise, his valve lips now flush against the base of Springer’s spike. Pulling back a small degree, First Aid glanced down, finding a certain delight in seeing the Wrecker’s spike fully sheathed inside him. He leaned up against the larger mech, letting his warm frame rest against theirs, his transfluid and lubricant streaking across Springer’s green armor.

“Still...still doing okay?” Springer asked breathlessly, obviously fighting the urge to thrust upwards, deeper into First Aid.

Nodding, the medic leaned up just a little further, nuzzling their warm faceplate against the cables of Springer’s neck. While he couldn’t kiss or lick them, he could certainly hum against them, the soft reverberations fluttering across the pliable cables. Springer groaned and grabbed First Aid’s aft, holding them steady as they continued to tease at the Wrecker’s neck cables.

“Want me to move?” the medic asked, his ventilation already picking up once again.

“Only-” Springer stopped, unable to help the grin that pulled at both corners of his mouth, and muttered something about how damn good it felt being inside First Aid before he was able to get his composure. “Only if you’re comfortable with it.”

“I want to,” First Aid replied quietly, lifting himself up slowly.

His grip on the medic’s aft remaining steady, which was particularly appreciated since First Aid was quivering in a mix of excitement and anticipation, Springer helped guide the smaller mech up...and then back down slowly on his spike. The rush of carnal stimulation flooded both their systems once again as Springer’s spike parted, before fitting snugly within, the lubricant slick walls of First Aid’s valve.

The medic writhed and moaned audibly, pawing at Springer’s chassis and shoulders, as he panted out the Wrecker’s name over and over. Again, there were the flickers of pleasure pain that rippled through his systems, which were racing with the heated promise of another overload. His hard spike rubbed against Springer’s lower midsection, leaving a trail of little transfluid droplets.

Ventilating out a shuddering sigh, Springer grinned down at the medic, his digit tips digging against the warm metal of First Aid’s aft. He lifted his hips ever so slightly, watching for any signs of discomfort. When he saw none, he kissed the medic again, this time a little rougher, and pulled up forward a little before moving them back down. Their ventilations both coming out in short pants, the Wrecker guided the medic into setting a slow but steadily increasing pace so that First Aid could ride up and down along Springer’s spike, the head pressing against First Aid’s interior node with each movement.

Gasping out a trembling laugh, First Aid kept the pace, angling himself just enough so that he could rub his firm, anterior node against the base of Springer’s spike. He couldn’t help the flush of embarrassment that rose to his face when there was the audible noise of his lubricant being squeezed out by the welcome intrusion of Springer’s spike, but that was quickly quelled whenever Springer roughly kissed his faceplate.

“There you go,” the Wrecker coaxed, gripping First Aid’s aft and helping to increase the pace that they were riding up and down his spike to. “Frag it all...you feel amazing.”

A short, pleased noise of acknowledgment slipping in between the panting moans, First Aid let his helm tilt back a little. Springer immediately took the cue and began to leave another trail of searing kisses along the pliable cables, his dentae occasionally nipping at the soft metal. His moans became louder, and First Aid reflexively began to ride up and down with more insistence and eagerness. Any pain had long since faded, and the medic struggled to keep his thoughts even partially coherent.

“Oh, frag,” Springer cursed, his warm breath brushing against First Aid’s neck cables, when he felt the smaller mech begin to move faster. His overload charges were already searing, greedily taking in any and all stimulation they could. “F-frag it, keep going. Keep going…!”

Though he didn’t really need the urging, First Aid certainly appreciated the fact that Springer was vocal with their pleasure. So, adjusting his angle just a bit more so that he could clutch at the Wrecker’s armor to give himself a bit more leverage, the medic continued to notch up the pace. He could feel lubricant, now mixed with traces of Springer’s pre-overload transfluid, smearing across his inner thighs. His overload charges continued to ratchet up, making his valve walls clench intermittently, and First Aid whimpered loudly when he felt the edges of Springer’s spike plating rub firmly against the super sensitive sensors in the mesh walls.

Biting down on his bottom lip, trying to hold out as long as he could, Springer ventilated hotly passed gritted dentae as he helped First Aid ride his spike. If anything, they were nearing a pace that it almost seemed like he was bouncing the smaller mech up and down his spike. His own lubricant had leaked out of his exposed valve, now mingling with First Aid’s on the table, and made it a little easier for the Wrecker to shift his weight as they increased their pace.

“Springer! Springer, please!” First Aid cried, clutching tightly at the green mech’s armor. His swollen valve was beginning to ache from the need to overload, and the medic was struggling to endure through the relentless thrusts. “I’m-I-!”

“Come on, that’s it…! Overload for me, that’s it!” Springer gasped, watching the medic as they rode his spike fervently. “Overload for me, my little medic!”

Though he wanted to ensure that Springer overloaded, First Aid found that he couldn’t hold out any longer against the carnal stimulation to his valve walls and nodes. He made a few, shuddering jerks as his overload charges began to peak, having to give in completely to Springer’s tight grip on his aft. Lubricant began to well up in copious amounts in his valve, and First Aid clung to the Wrecker as he squeezed his optics shut.

“Over-overloading! I’m overloading!”

Helm snapping back, First Aid cried out as his world spiraled into a heady, ecstatic mess. His frame went rigid, making only small, short jerks each time his valve cinched rhythmically around Springer’s spike. The Wrecker continued to guide them up and down vigorously, the spike plating tripping sensors that were flaring in response, extending First Aid’s overload. In the midst of his release, the medic heard Springer growl his name before thrusting up and hilting hard and fully into him. It was immediately followed by a thick, warm feeling flooding First Aid’s valve as the Wrecker overloaded into him.

Lubricant mixed hotly with transfluid when Springer overloaded, the mech having barely been able to last a couple more thrusts when First Aid overloaded. The feel of the tight, soft walls massaging his spike and urging along his climax, coupled with the medic’s delightful moans, gasps, and cries, had brought the Wrecker to overload...and hard.

Springer clutched at First Aid, doubling over a little, his gleaming frame pressing against the medic’s, as he buried his face against their shoulder. He managed a few, hoarse gasps, his senses racing in the carnal release. Every time his spike throbbed with thick pulses of transfluid into First Aid’s hot, wet valve, it only seemed to intensify the peak of his overload. The Wrecker kept the smaller mech pulled down, instinctually driven to keep his spike fully enveloped in First Aid’s accepting valve throughout the entirety of his intense overload.

Though he was the first to drift back down from his sexual high, First Aid remained as still as his exhausted frame would allow, not wanting to interrupt Springer’s overload. And when their frame went slack as the last of their transfluid reserves were spent into First Aid, and the throes of the Wrecker’s overload subsided, the little medic stroked the back of Springer’s helm. He murmured quiet, comforting nonsense, nuzzling his faceplate against the side of Springer’s helm.

Ventilation racing and his systems trying to cool off, Springer simply sat there for a long moment, easing his grip but holding onto First Aid. He kissed the medic’s shoulder and neck, pulling back just enough so that he could rest his forehelm against First Aid’s. He was vaguely aware that his spike was still inside the smaller mech’s debauched valve, but Springer was content to remain connected to First Aid and enjoy their contented exhaustion.

“So, Doc,” Springer chuckled, looking down at First Aid with half-shuttered optics. “Think I could get scheduled for a follow-up appointment?”

“As your medic, I practically...insist,” First Aid replied with a happy gleam in his visor.


End file.
